


CRIMSON SHADOW

by AgnesClementine



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Len and Mick are disasters, M/M, Mick turns into a dragon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 16:35:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16308779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgnesClementine/pseuds/AgnesClementine
Summary: “Hey, nice dragon. Look what I have. A nice, bloody stake.” He says, embarrassed out of his wits. If someone- absolutely not someone who lives across the hall- passes by, he’s gonna voluntarily move out.The dragon… the dragon snorts.Len scowls at it, “What? You want me to cook it for you?”****************************The one where Len and Mick are walking disasters in love and there are dragons involved.





	CRIMSON SHADOW

**Author's Note:**

> So, this started as a shower thought, turned into this. 
> 
> Let me know what you think and enjoy! :)

Len is what Lisa would call grumpy, but he likes to think of it as being 'justifiably peeved'. Especially since he was stuck in the traffic for over an hour- after spending the whole afternoon with pretentious snobs who think they know more about accounting than him. _Assholes_. So he’s justifiably peeved, hungry- and there’s a fucking dragon in his living room.

The thing is huge too, nothing like those Chihuahua sized ones that people carry around in their purses and bags. This one is bigger than a Great Dane the man who lived across from his dad’s house used to have- and that Great Dane was, heh _, great_.

He faintly remembers seeing it chewing through a car tire once, too. So he’s justifiably peeved, hungry and about to die. _Fantastic_.

He grips the doorknob hard enough his palm aches, but honestly, the dragon looks almost as startled as he is. It’s staring at him for a moment before breaking eye contact and looking around like it’s searching for an exit. Len spies the open window in his kitchen which Lisa undoubtedly left open because _you’re not getting enough fresh air, Lenny_. The dragon spies a pair of boots by the couch- and snatches one in his mouth like it’s normal dragon behavior (maybe it is, Len doesn’t know).

“That was a good pair of boots,” he finds himself saying into silence. Like an idiot who _wants to be eaten by a dragon_.

The dragon blinks at him, a pair of almost human blue eyes peering up at him before he sets the boot down again.

_Weird_.

Len watches it as it does a full body stretch, just like a dog would, and then awkwardly sprawls in front of the couch. Len’s heart stutters, a flash of future where he has to move out because the honest to god dragon took over his apartment.

Figuring he’s not getting viciously torn to pieces every moment now, he slowly walks towards the kitchen, leaving a wide radius of space between himself and the dragon. He takes a stake out of the freezer, trying to remember what Lisa told him was a proper way to feed a dragon when she was going through a phase when she was 13. Something about watching his fingers- which doesn’t make him feel better.

He walks back to the door, the dragon following him with its eyes. He originally waves the stake in front of himself, but then thinks better of it and moves to the side, so the dragon doesn’t mow him over once he pounces at the meat. It doesn’t budge, though, so Len resolves to take desperate actions.

“Hey, nice dragon. Look what I have. A nice, bloody stake.” He says, embarrassed out of his wits. If someone- absolutely not _someone who lives across the hall_ \- passes by, he’s gonna voluntarily move out.

The dragon… the dragon snorts.

Len scowls at it, “What? You want me to cook it for you?”

He’s certain that an animal, ‘magical’ or not, shouldn’t be able to make a ‘Duh’ expression.

“Unbelievable.” He mutters, closing the door and stalking back to the kitchen. The dragon doesn’t move except to lay on the opposite side so he can see Len puttering around the kitchen because of the open plan of the apartment. Len’s not a chef or anything, but he can make a decent meal when he sets his mind to it.

The dragon finally moves once it senses the food is done. It trots towards the table, stopping only when Len sets a plate on the floor- he’s so not in the mood to scrub the grease and dragon drool off his floor. The dragon looks at the plate like it offended it.

Len sighs, “Let me guess, you want mashed potatoes too?”

The dragon blinks at him. Len sighs again and scoops a spoonful of potatoes to dump on the plate as well.

“Happy?” He asks. The dragon looks at the table. Len crosses his arms over his chest and scowls at it. “You’re not eating at the table.”

He’s having an argument with a dragon. Maybe he was in a car crash and this is his hell.

The dragon bows down- and picks up the plate in his mouth (it’s like watching a Labrador holding an egg in his mouth). He trots back to the living room and sets the plate on the coffee table. The fucker even looks at Len smugly before diving in.

Len narrows his eyes at it and hopes it chokes on those potatoes.

  * ●●●●



The dragon leaves after dinner. Like, it literally opens the door on its own and trots down the hallway. Len watches it disappear behind the corner until he can hear the familiar footsteps and ducks back into his apartment. Because he can eat a dinner with a dragon, but can’t talk to his ‘hotter-than-the-sun’ neighbor.

  * ●●●●



The dragon is back two days later. Len enters his apartment and the dragon is watching TV on his couch. _At least it doesn’t shed_ , he tells himself in consolation.

“So we meet again,” he sighs, resigned, and goes to make dinner. The dragon snorts at him again.

Today, he parks himself in front of the TV as well, a plate of steaming lasagna in hand and another one on the coffee table in front of the dragon. They eat in silence, dragon’s long tail thumping against the cushions every once in a while.

He wonders if the dragon has a legit owner, since it’s way too tame to be wild. And it’s clean too; shiny black obsidian scales with the faintest, dark crimson reflection to them. It’s built like a dog, with doglike features all around, from big paws to the muzzle. But at the same time, like all dragons, it has that catlike grace about it. But it’s not a breed that Len’s familiar with, doesn’t look like a mutt either.

It leaves after the dinner once again, this time- and Len is not lying- going to put his plate in the sink. Honestly.

It’s like it’s not a dragon at all.

Len shakes the thoughts away. While shifters are a thing, all sorts, the ones turning into dragons are not this big, as much as Len knows. They usually turn into dragons that are the size of a Golden Retriever, it all depends on their built in their human form.

And it would have to be one damn big shifter to turn into a dragon that size.

  * ●●●●



“A dragon!” Len flinches, pulling the phone away from his ear at Lisa’s shrieked exclamation.

“Lenny! You have a dragon!” She gushes, unaware of people giving him weird looks in passing. Like having dragons is not something that’s been in fashion for the majority of the last two centuries. It’s about as common as having a cat or a dog. A goldfish, even.

One older lady with an orange Persian viper dragon tucked in her purse gives him a conspiratory smile. Len tersely smiles back, awkward. He does not want to be sucked into a ‘dragon lovers’ conversation while her dragon stares at him with its creepy, catlike yellow eyes.

He puts the phone back, “Chill, Lise. And I don’t have a dragon. It just comes and goes as it pleases.” He responds, dodging the old lady and her evil pet and continuing to his apartment building.

“But a dragon! That’s so cool! Ohh, could I pet it?” Lisa asks excitedly.

Len is not sure actually. “Dunno. Didn’t try it.” He says with a shrug even though his sister can’t see him.

Lisa gasps, “You have to. Do it for me.”

“What if it bites me?”

“Then I’ll know I can’t pet it. It’s gonna be for my own good.” Lisa responds smoothly. Len taught her too well.

“Glad to know where your loyalty lies.” Len jokes drily.

“Aww, Lenny, I love you, you know that.” She coos at him.

Len rolls his eyes, but the smile tugs at his lips, “Yeah, yeah. Love you too, sis.”

Lisa squeals (she’s doing it just to irritate him, he knows), “Oh, I gotta go.”

“Bye.”

“Bye! Pet it!” She hangs up with that. She also knows Len hates not having the last word.

He sighs, just rounding the corner of his building when he smacks into something solid enough to make a _thud_ upon impact. He almost topples over, a swear on the tip of his tongue, though it dies down when he sees who grabbed his arm to steady him.

“Whoa, there,” Mick says, grinning and letting go of his arm, “you alright, Len?”

_No. He’s about to die_. Of course he had to crash into Mick. And of course Mick has to be built like a damn brick house. Mick is exactly the type of a shifter, if he were one, that would turn into a dragon the size of a Great Dane.

“Yeah, just wasn’t looking. Where I’m going. I don’t usually run into people like this.” He keeps talking, to his own mortification. “I’m more careful usually, you know.”

_God, just shut up_.

Mick nods, still grinning. He comes off as a grump to new people, but he’s like a ray of sunshine once you get to meet him. Tough and nice; like Len’s love life wasn’t a disaster before.

“Of course. You doing fine? Haven’t seen you in a while.” He muses out loud, scratching at his cheek thoughtfully. He’s got a two days old beard and Len wants to touch it. So he shoves his hands in his jacket’s pockets. Better safe than devastatingly embarrassed.

“Yeah, you know how it goes. Work’s keeping me busy.” Len responds, remembers his self- taught manners, “And you?”

Mick nods, rocking on the balls of his feet. “Good, good. Out of milk, so I’m going to the store.” He stops, scratches his cheek again, “Which is not important. Anyway…” He trails off.

“Right, I’ll get-“

“I’m not gonna hold you up-“

“-out of your way.”

They greet each other clumsily and Len notices, once Mick is out of sight, that he _actually waved_. He stares at his hand in betrayal, then smacks himself in the forehead with it and goes to die in his apartment.

  * ●●●●



“-and then I waved, you know, _like a moron_.” Len says, still bitter about it and shovels another spoonful of chocolate mint ice cream in his mouth. The dragon is looking at him with wide eyes, blinking, like he also can’t believe the disaster Len is when feelings are involved.

Len glances at ice cream, then at the dragon. “Sorry, but I think ice cream is not good for dragons.”

The dragon rumbles, an almost warm, vibrating noise, and jumps up on Len’s bed. It curls awkwardly so they both fit and shoves its head in Len’s thigh. Len can feel the warmth radiating off it through his sweatpants.

He remembers Lisa’s request and thinks, _fuck it_ , he’s gonna pet a giant dragon laying on his bed.

He takes another spoonful of ice cream- what a glorious last meal- and lightly sets his palm on dragon’s neck. He holds his breath for a moment and when nothing happens, strokes his hand over the scales once. They’re smooth and warm to the touch. He takes a risk and scratches it underneath the chin, like on that cartoon Lisa was crazy about.

The dragon makes a questioning noise, lifts up its head to give Len a ‘what the hell are you doing?’ look. Len doesn’t waver.

He shrugs, “My sister wanted me to pet approve you.” He deadpans and goes back to eating ice cream.

The dragon sets its head back down and when Len wakes up the next morning, it’s naturally gone.

  * ●●●●



Len thinks that the dragon thought he was joking- and Len is sure it thinks because, let’s face it, the thing can probably do everything short of actually washing the dishes.

Also, its reaction to Lisa storming through the door with a shouted “A dragon!” is priceless.

It freezes on the spot, eyes filled with terror as Lisa comes closer and coos at it. She drops on her knees, immediately starting to pet it.

The dragon sends a pleading look at Len, but Len just smirks. This is payback for that smug look he got the first time he told the dragon he can’t eat at the table.

  * ●●●●



“He’s really tame,” Lisa muses, crunching on a cookie and observing the dragon who was pet- traumatized to the other side of the room. It’s throwing Len dirty looks every once in a while.

Len shrugs, “One, you don’t know it’s a he. Second, yeah, it’s probably got an owner somewhere close. Maybe someone new moved in.” Len wouldn’t know, he’s not really keeping up with tenant gossip.

Lisa huffs, “Totally a he, look, _he_ ’s too big to be a girl.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Well, yeah. Told you you’re gonna get a dragon.” She points at the dragon. “That’s a dragon.”

Then she grins wide, her eyes glinting. Not good. “Now I just have to get you to hook up with your hot neighbor.”

Len groans and dragon’s ears twitch like it heard something interesting.

“Lisa…”

“Don’t ‘Lisa’ me. You like him.” She points an accusing finger at him. “You just suck at getting it across.” She snatches the last cookie off the plate.

She’s about to say something else, but the dragon getting up and carrying the plate in the kitchen has her taking a pause. She gapes after it like a fish.

“Oh, God. You know what? Just keep the dragon, it’s got better manners than most of your hookups.” She says.

“Dragon can’t bench press me.” He mutters. _Mick could, and he bets it would be glorious_.

  * ●●●●



The dragon is eating a donut on the couch. Len doesn’t know where it got it, but he wants one too. He makes a beeline for the kitchen, his stomach about to eat itself because he had to skip his lunch break because of a meeting. He’s hungry enough to consider just eating an apple to ease the hunger, but his phone buzzes before he can even grab it from the bowl.

“What?” He asks into the speaker, polishing the apple on his shirt before taking a bite.

“Iron Heights prison, are you agreeing on paying the cost of this phone call?”

Len scowls, his appetite gone and replaced with cold anger.

“No.” He sneers and hangs up. He can’t believe that Lewis still persists at calling; like Len will suddenly have a change of heart any moment now and agree to whatever the hell he had planned.

Well, he can go to hell for all Len cares.

He catches the dragon looking at him curiously and takes another bite out of his apple.

“Fathers. Can’t live without them, can’t get rid of them.” He says. He makes a mental note to call Lisa and give her a heads up- because if Lewis Snart is anything, he’s predictable in most mundane of ways.

The dragon rumbles and scoots just the tiniest bit to make space for him.

  * ●●●●



“So what’re you gonna call him?”

Len peers up at his sister from his ice cream bowl. “What?”

“Name. What are you naming him?” Lisa repeats.

“Nothing, Lise,” he holds up a finger when Lisa opens her mouth to protest, “No. I’m not naming it anything because I’m not keeping it.”

Lisa screws up her face in a grimace, “But Lenny. C’mon, he’s here all the time. You even feed him, so you practically already own him.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how ownership works. And it probably already has a name.” Len countered.

Lisa pouts, “Maybe he’s your hot neighbor’s.”

“What?” Len likes to think he’s observant enough that he’d notice if his across-from-hall neighbor had a huge pet dragon. “Mick’s?”

The dragon’s ears perk up at the name and Lisa grins, all self- satisfied. “Oh, my God. Look, he has to be Mick’s. You _have to_ call him Mick the 2 nd.”

“If he is Mick’s, what I have to do is give him back.” Len responds.

  * ●●●●



It was easier said than done because every time Mick was near, the dragon was nowhere in sight and vice versa. It’s not so strange during the week, when Len knows Mick is also at work, though the dragon spends the evenings mostly occupying Len’s couch, but the weekends, when neither of them works, are strange. You’d think the guy would be worried if his 180 lb dragon disappeared all the time.

  * ●●●●



He runs into Mick a few days later. Not literally again, thank God.

They meet on the stairwell because some dumbass left a cartoon of spoiled eggs in the elevator and, well, it fucking reeks. Nobody wants to sacrifice themselves and throw it out, so the elevator’s been out of commission for a week now.

“Hey, you.” Mick greets and nods at the six-pack in Len’s hands, “rough day at work?”

“Beer’s my sister’s, actually.” They had a surprise inspection at her dorm building and she got a tip just in time to call Len and load her roommate’s booze in his car. “Inspection.” He says as a way of explanation.

“Ah,” Mick nods. “Speaking of your sister, she told me you got yourself a dragon.”

_Oh, God_. He’s gonna pour purple hair dye in her shampoo, he swears.

“Um…”

“What’s it called?” Mick asks with a grin, arms crossed over his chest in interest.

Not fair, how is Len supposed to come up with a quality lie with that in front of him.

“Spike.” _Good God_.

Mick opens his mouth to speak when the door on Len’s left cracks open. It’s Mrs. Darwin, the cell tower of local gossip.

“You be careful with that dragon, son,” she tells him seriously, “it might be a shifter. Like that peeping Tom from the news.”

There has been an incident a few weeks ago. A woman got herself a dragon that turned out to be a dragon-shifter after she caught him watching her shower. It was all over the news.

“Thanks, I’ll do that.” Len replies drily and she squints at him. Mick squirms in his periphery, clearing his throat.

“Hey, I’d, uh, actually, want to talk to you.” He says.

Len looks at him, “Oh, about what?”

Mick opens his mouth to respond, but his phone starts buzzing. “Damnit, I’ve got to take this.” He looks up from the phone, “I- you know what, it doesn’t matter right now.”

He gives Len a hasty goodbye and hurries down the stairs, leaving him alone with Mrs. Darwin. Len gives her an awkward smile, slowly becoming aware of what he’s holding in his hands, and continues his way up.

  * ●●●●



The dragon doesn’t come by that evening, but Mick does.

Len is about to settle in front of the TV with a bowl of ice cream and a mug of hot chocolate (don’t judge) when a knock sounds off. It’s Mick, standing in front of his door and looking nervous as hell.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” Len responds just as awkwardly, surprised because this is not something that happens. The only times he sees Mick is on the hallway or somewhere around the building; they don’t knock on each other’s doors.

“So, about that thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh, right.”

“It, ah, it does matter, actually.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Can I come in?”

Len jerks out of his trance, “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” He steps aside to let Mick pass and closes the door behind him.

They stand in silence awkwardly for few seconds, Mick apparently searching for right words.

“I- fuck, this is going to be harder than it seemed.” He says.

Len’s brain has a weird way of connecting dots, and either the best or worst timing. So he blinks, a light bulb turning on above his head, and speaks before Mick can.

“You’re the dragon.” He says. Mick is a shifter.

Mick makes a startled, strangled noise. “I swear I’m not a perv.” He blurts out.

“What?”

Mick’s ears turn red, “Mrs. Darwin…” he trails off.

_Oh_.

“I mean, I wasn’t planning on it, but you were nice and I figured I made you kinda uncomfortable in this shape, so I… kept coming around.” Mick explains.

“And the first time?” Len asks to distract himself from the heat rising in his cheeks.

Mick turns red as a tomato. “Wrong window.”

“A what?”

Mick cringes, “I, ah, flew into a wrong window. And then you came in before I could leave and I freaked out.”

Len is speechless. Which doesn’t happen very often, mind you.

“Amazing.”

Mick’s expression indicates he’s not really agreeing, but he’s not complaining either.

“Well.” He shrugs. “While we’re on confessions, I wouldn’t mind bench pressing you.”

It’s Len’s turn to turn red because, “You heard that?”

“Yeah, sorry for eavesdropping. Better hearing comes with dragon ears.” Mick rubs the back of his neck.

Len barks out a laugh, delighted, “I expect a dinner first, you know.”

Mick grins. “Sure. As long as you let me eat at the table this time.”

Len responds with a grin, walking closer. “That can be arranged.” He says and pulls Mick in for a kiss.


End file.
